Occasions Like This
by librasun-scorpiorising
Summary: Willow's in the Wind. A different account of the tragedy that was this episode.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I am sick of being shamed for liking Grillows. If you are only going to throw shade at me for not loving GSR as much as you do, or thinking Cath and Vartaan belong together, then please leave me alone. It's really unfair.

Chapter 1

Adrenaline.

It pumped through her and for a moment she wasn't scared. She was pissed off. How dare someone shoot through her home and drive her into the street.

She turned her head to the black vehicle squealing down the street, headed straight for her. She lifted her gun. There was no time to pray, there was no time to think. If she was going to go down, she would go down shooting.

Her heart pulverized her chest from the inside out as the car came to a halt with the window down.

"Get in!"

She saw the silvered hair and the familiar face. She swore she was imagining things, hallucinating, completely mad and delirious. She threw herself into the vehicle, escaping a pelting of bullets that swooshed through the air, slicing it in two with a deafening crack. The car lurched forward, its driver breathing heavily and saying her name as they sped off. The ricocheting of metal off metal was ringing in her ears.

And then she felt it. There was a muscle constricting, searing pain that sent her into waves of dizziness as she moved. She deftly grabbed her white, blood soaked shirt and slid it over her abdomen. She saw the hole in her body and watched as blood spilled out over her hand. Her mouth went dry, as if she had stuck cotton in her mouth. Her lips quivered, her teeth clenched and she shut her eyes, bearing down.

"Catherine? Cath, are you ok?"

"I've been better," she sputtered.

Gil Grissom turned his head to glance back at his old colleague. "Shit."

He had been on his way to see her. Just arriving back in town, he wanted to catch her after her shift, make some drinks, and chat. He stopped by the lab and heard about what had happened. He was hoping to have caught her at work, but when he heard that she was rattled up about this case, he decided to go see if she was ok. He wanted to be the friend she had always been for him. He thanked his lucky star for arriving when he did.

He looked back again. "Catherine, stay with me ok? I'm going to try to pull over somewhere."

"We are going to have to be discreet, Gil," she pushed out. "They will find us."

Grissom wasn't sure of every detail, but he trusted her. He always had. He kept driving, remembering that when he left Las Vegas, he left a piece of himself behind, and still paid rent on it. He rolled the vehicle to a gentle stop, watching Catherine carefully so he didn't jar her, and then moved quickly to get her out of the car.

 **He opened the door, beckoning to her. "Ok, Cath. I kept an apartment in town, for occasions like this."**

Catherine looked at him. "For this occasion?"

"Sorry, not for this exactly, but for visiting."

"Gee, what a nice visit you're having," Catherine breathed. She bit the side of her tongue trying to keep herself from wailing out as Grissom pulled her from his back seat.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm glad I came to you."

Catherine smiled a watery smile to him and fell into him as she exited the car. She was woozy, blooding still dripping from her body.

Grissom was in shock, moving with logic, with the intent of getting her inside and getting help as soon as possible.

She was motionless, standing barefoot in his kitchen, dripping blood onto the tile. He moved around her, grabbing a million things in his arms; towels, water, medication, blankets. He moved effortlessly despite his trembling hands.

He brushed his thumbs across both cheeks before peeling the bloodstained clothes from her body. She fell into his touch, starting to panic as she felt the blood run down her body. He watched her chest rise and fall quickly and tried to slow his movements in response.

"You're okay, Catherine. I'm going to get you some help, you'll be okay."

She could only nod. She looked to him, her eyes swimming behind the tears that surfaced, ready to fall, and her bottom lip quivered. Grissom moved carefully, getting her down the hall and onto the towels he laid down on the bed for her. Once she was down, he grabbed his cell.

Catherine started to protest, but he quelled her. "It's okay, it's okay. No one but a few people at the lab know I'm back. They wouldn't know to track my cell, okay? I'll call Doc Robbins." She nodded again.

In that time, Catherine's eyes slid shut. Grissom's words drowned in the background of her heart thumping in her ears. She would wake every few minutes, finding Grissom in a different place. She picked out different phrases, quiet as he tried to be.

"She's bleeding… I don't know how much she's lost, but enough. She's colorless Doc…. Okay.. okay.. just get here, as quick as you can. I lost one CSI in my arms I won't do it again, not with her, I ca-... Okay… Okay I will."

She felt the weight on the bed shift.

"Catherine, sweetie? C'mon, stay with me," he pleaded. His hands sifted through her hair, pushing it off her face. Her eyes cracked open, doing as he requested. She didn't want to worry him anymore than she had to. He held her hand and sighed.

"You know," she croaked, "I was doing pretty damn well. I… I was really trying to get it together." Her breathing was heavy, but he let her speak. "This isn't like me, Gil… I've been rescuing myself. I've been so careful." Fresh tears brimmed and spilled, cascading down her papery cheeks. "I've been okay without you." She squeezed his hand.

He didn't say anything. He knew she hated feeling helpless. He had half a mind to tell her he had no clue what he was doing. He wasn't rescuing her. She was keeping herself alive, sheer will and determination.

"You're going to be alright, Catherine." He traced over her face, keeping her calm while he waited for Doc Robbins.

When the Doc did show up, it was a blur for Grissom and Catherine. He snuck in quickly, evaluated her condition. Grissom sat on the other side of the bed, holding her hand. She didn't cry, not when he sterilized her wound, not when he poked at it, not when he patched her up. Her nails dug into Grissom's hand, but that was it. She smiled at Doc when he was finished and said thank you.

"You're going to need to sleep, Catherine," he said.

"Whatever the doctor says." She winked.

He talked to Grissom for a while, but she was drifting off to sleep. She hoped when she woke up that she would be somewhere far away from her nightmare.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

"Catherine… what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time… You know, you always were a magnet for disaster. You'd hate me for saying that, but there's truth in it…"

Grissom had sat and mumbled to Catherine while she slept through the night. He dozed off of course, too. He just wanted to make sure that when she woke up someone was there. The trauma was sure to induce confusion and lightheadedness. He wanted her to be comfortable and to know she was safe.

"I should have called you when Sara and I decided to split. I didn't know what to do. I think I might have messed it up… You would have known what to do. Remember the first time I upset her? You told me to fix it, to pic of my head from the microscope every once in awhile."

Grissom looked out of his window, seeing the sun rise against a clouded, murky sky. This was all going to blow over, just like the weather, and Catherine would be herself again. He would go back to wherever he was supposed to go, and everything would return to normal. Looking back at her face, however, Grissom wished that she needed him more than he needed her. No matter what her condition was on that bed, he would always need her more.

 _**It's much later. The case has been solved and Catherine is undecided about what she wants to do with her life. The FBI still offers her a position, but the crime lab is still a viable option. Grissom has stayed in town in his old town house. He got her to the hospital when the air cleared and she was okay. Nick, Greg, Sara, and Morgan all filtered through her bright hospital room, but Catherine's heart weighed heavy. When she asked if Grissom would stay, he did. No questions asked, no lectures, no pleading, no explaining. He stayed like she asked and they left it at that. Now she's home.**_

Catherine laid on her couch, a glass of ice tea in hand, watching as the breeze pushed the trees back and forth. She was stronger, healing slowly, but well. It was only a matter of time before she wouldn't have to take pain meds and she would be able to move around without thinking about it. She longed for the freedom of mobility. Most of all, she longed for people to stop asking her how she felt. Somewhere inside her, she was also waiting for the day when her big empty house wouldn't feel so strange anymore.

When she heard a soft knock on her front door, she sighed, maybe with relief, or maybe at the thought of getting up off the couch. She made her way to the front door either way and pulled it open. She was met by a huge bouquet of brightly colored flowers. The fuschias and tangerines of summer colors were encapsulated by lime green stems.

Gil popped his head from behind the bundle and smiled. "Hey! They didn't have anything bigger than this," he joked.

"These are beautiful, Gil!" She grabbed them and stuck her face into the soft petals, breathing into their aroma. She had been careful to savor everything in her life that didn't smell like blood or sterile, stale hospital.

"I'm glad you like them. I thought you could use something big and bright. To talk to, maybe?"

"Are you trying to replace yourself with plants?"

Gil looked to her with a sad smile. "No, no Cath that's not what I meant."

Catherine's smile brightened again. "Good. These are nice, though. Very thoughtful."

She led them into her living room, offering up water or some other beverage but he kindly refused. Instead, he sat very near to her on the couch and turned himself to her. She looked down, and then away, drinking her tea as if she hadn't noticed, before settling on him and taking a breath.

"How are you doing, Catherine?"

She pondered for a moment, sucking in her breath and letting it out in a huff. "I'm… okay. I guess. Physically, I'm in pretty good shape," she smarted.

"But mentally you're comatose?" Gil finished her quote.

"Maybe I'm just lazy," she quipped.

"By choice?"

"I don't know, Gil. What about you though. You came back here, all this way, surely not to rescue me. What are you doing here?"

"I missed you." He said it as if it were supposed to be obvious, as though she should have known that all along.

She stared at him long and hard, wondering where she had missed something. It was ridiculous to her that he would come back, unannounced, just to see her. It hit her for a moment and it took a moment to register.

"I haven't seen you since you left. You haven't… called me, or written me…"

"Like I said, Catherine. I missed you."

It had been years. She thought about the day he left, every now and then, feeling herself losing to the battle each time she did. She missed him too but she didn't dare say it. What would come of that if she did. Dissonance riddled her when he left the first time. She wasn't prepared for that to happen again.

She smiled at her lap instead and stayed very still. Grissom didn't push it, didn't make it awkward. He was never the type to leave an uncomfortable silence for too long. He has always picked it up when she couldn't.

"What should we do today?"

"I don't know, what have you missed about Vegas the most since you left?"

He thought about it for a minute. "A picnic, in your backyard. I want to see your flowers in bloom. Maybe you can make that pasta dish I like?"

Her mouth pulled into a smile, the same way he always remembered it. She would stare at him for a moment, her eyes already exhibiting the smile, before her lips would pull up and her teeth would flash. She always held eye contact and it would last for a few seconds. He hadn't seen that smile in four years.

She didn't say anything, but she pulled herself off of the couch. Gil watched her as she stepped into her kitchen. She looked so small in her big house. There was no teenager running around and bombarding her. She had no lover leaving his shoes around. No animals getting underfoot. Not even a fish to watch while she sipped her morning coffee. It was a big beautiful house, immaculately clean, that surrounded her. Nothing more.

She sifted through her refrigerator, finding lime beer in the back, and popped a cap off of one.

"Here, Gil. I can't with the pain meds I'm on, but you certainly can."

"Only if you don't mind," he said.

"Nah, If I need a fix I'll go pop a Vicodin. They seem to work just fine." She looked away, though, irritated that she was still taking them.

"They give you nightmares, don't they." He asked it as if he knew the answer.

"Yeah… I don't like taking them at night but sometimes it's worth it. These stitches get so sore." She gently rubbed her abdomen where her bullet wound permanently resided.

"Before better migraine medication hit the market I was given Vicodin for when I really couldn't handle it. Always gave me nightmares."

"It sucks," she admitted.

He remembered those nights; being so alone when he woke up from a nightmare, in a cold sweat, shaking and not aware of his whereabouts. He would turn his light on and read until he passed out. He couldn't imagine her waking up in a state of panic and dealing with that. He could see her her, reaching to turn on her bed side lamp, sweat causing her hair to stick to her neck. She would get herself a glass of water, grab a book, and fall asleep with her glasses on her face.

The midday sun was hot as Catherine moved around the kitchen, taking her time, enjoying Grissom's dialogue from the bar. He would ask her how she was making the dish, interjecting sometimes with old shared memories or tales from his time in the rainforest. He even had a few pictures stowed away on his phone from the few times he managed to capture a few moments.

"Hey Gil? My phone is next to my bed, would you mind grabbing it? Lindsay is supposed to text me at some point."

Gil nodded and started down the hall. He hadn't asked where her room was, but he could figure it out. He came upon it at the end of the stretch, a beautiful room that was tidy, but homey. Her bed was filled with more pillows than any one person needed to sleep with. A soft, beige rug covered the cold dark wood floor. He could see her sliding her bare feet across it, tensing as she moved over the wood to the bathroom. He ran his hand along the plush white comforter, enjoying the soft cotton feel.

When he returned to the kitchen with her phone, he found Catherine leaning up against the counter with her head tipped back, then she slowly rotated her neck.

"Here's your phone," he set in on the counter. "Now, let's see what I can do about this."

His thumbs permeated her tense shoulders, sliding vigorously over lumps and knots that were wound up in her muscle.

She hissed but leaned into it. "Thank you. I've been so stiff."

"I can hardly imagine why."

She turned around to look at him. "Seriously, thank you Gil. For letting me cook and move around and just be normal today."

Grissom leaned his hip into the counter and smiled. Raising a hand to her face, he slid his fingers ever so lightly into her hair and dragged his thumb across her cheek before faltering and dropping his hand with a submissive smile. "It's good to see you moving around."

Catherine outstretched her arms and pulled him into the hug he would never initiate. It was a tender hug, one that lasted long enough to be friendly but not long enough for them both to settle.

When dinner was cleared, the dishes washed, and the food placed neatly in the refrigerator (though Grissom requested he take some home), Catherine and Grissom sat peacefully in her backyard. Catherine had found a quilt and they had dined on her grass, surrounded by her budding flower garden. Catherine had laid onto her back, soaking up the mild sun that was starting to dip beneath the horizon. Grissom watched her when she wasn't looking, and when she was, he looked at the flowers; both equally as beautiful and intriguing. He inched closer to her as the sun inched closer to the ground, and finally he laid on his back, their arms pressed together. His nervous fingers were twitching slightly as he began to slip his hand around hers.


End file.
